Thirteen Going on Fourteen
by peroxidepest17
Summary: One Piece Bleach crossover: Zoro and Sanji bust their way into the Court of Pure Souls. Hijinks ensue.
1. Thirteen Going on Fourteen

**Title:** Thirteen Going on Fourteen  
** Universe:** Bleach, One Piece  
**Theme/Topic:** Crossover madness as suggested by fanart and Vinnie  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing/Character/s:** Zoro, Sanji, Hanatarou, Kenpachi, Jidanbo, Kyouraku, Ukitake, Yamamoto, Hitsugaya  
**Spoilers:** Whole Soul Society Arc for Bleach, none for One Piece that I can think of…  
**Word Count: **6,913  
**Time:** Years? XD  
**Summary:** Zoro and Sanji bust their way into the Court of Pure Souls. Hijinks ensue.  
**Dedication:** Vinnie and Christine- Christine for the fanart, and Vinnie for poking me into writing this.  
**A/N: **Oh man, I found this after two years of having completely forgotten it. I believe Vinnie told me to write it either after my freshman or sophomore year and I did but hated it so much I never posted it. I just ran into it after going through my comp cleaning up files today. XD Well… gonna just go ahead and post it then. Crossovers are supposed to be stupid most of the time anyway, right? Right. So suspend that disbelief for me and hopefully it'll at least be a little entertaining if completely nonsensical.  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, though I wish constantly.  
**Distribution:** Just lemme know.

* * *

**One:** Now What've You Gotten Us Into? 

"This is your fault."

"How the hell is this _my_ fault?"

Zoro crossed his arms and stared at Sanji severely. "We're _dead. _And the only way that this coulda happened was if _you_ did something wrong."

Sanji slapped a hand to his forehead. "We were _105._ Of _course_ we're dead."

Zoro frowned. "Well I'm not supposed to be dead! It's still gotta be your fault somehow."

Sanji kicked him in the head. "Just…shut up will you? We're _dead_. There's nothing we can do about it now but enjoy it, right?" the blond theorized. He examined his spiritual form. "Eh, at least they gave us our youth back, ne? I almost forgot how good looking I was. Am."

The swordsman snorted. "Tch. Better than at 105, at least. That's for sure."

Sanji kicked him in the head again. Paused. "Oh god. I just realized we're stuck together for eternity," he muttered dejectedly. "Why _you_ and not Nami-swan?!"

"'Cuz that woman'll live forever," Zoro responded simply, resting his elbows on his katana, which oddly enough, seemed to have followed him here. "Well…I guess we'd better get started, eh?" the former pirate stated to himself after a moment, looking around the… strange forest they'd apparently woken up in.

"Get started with _what_? What is there to start when we're _dead_?" Sanji asked incredulously.

Zoro shrugged one shoulder. "Fixin' it, I guess. Should find a way back before we're missed even more."

Sanji stared evenly. "Are you _an idiot_? Wait… don't say anything. I know the answer to that already." He should have been used to it after all the years, but there were still some moments---some very _special_ moments-- where he was reminded of just how dense the swordsman could still be.

"Oi, this is your fault in the first place, remember? If you hadn't let that crazy girl with the sword touch you in the forehead we wouldn't be in this mess!"

Sanji sighed fondly at the memory. "Such a pretty angel though…"

"Che. That's what landed us here in the first place, yeah? So now we fix it."

"You can't fix being dead!! Especially _after_ we crossed over! It's generally something you fix beforehand, idiot."

"Well it's just not cool for the world's number one swordsman to die in his sleep!"

"Well if you didn't sleep so goddamn _much_!"

Zoro blinked. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Argh."

"Ohohohoho, what do we have here, huh? Coupla newbies to Rukongai, looks like, eh fellas?"

Zoro and Sanji turned around at the sound of a new, but achingly familiar voice, both feeling like heaven seemed to be much more horrifically cliché than they'd first imagined.

They had more important things to worry about than dealing with generic bandits one through fourteen.

"It's their lucky day, eh? Us comin' out all the way out here to greet 'em properly, show them the ropes. Usually newbies don't get that kinda courtesy and… WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GOING?!?!"

Zoro yawned as he and Sanji both brushed past the incredulous leader. "Towards town, I guess," the swordsman explained, indicating with his chin in the direction of what looked like smoke rising from chimneys somewhere in the distance.

The bandits all blinked back at him.

Both pirates kept walking.

"DON'T JUST IGNORE US!!!" the bandit leader yowled, vein popping up rather unattractively on his forehead. "WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!"

Sanji sighed to himself as he heard the sound of weapons being drawn. The chef wondered rather philosophically, why dying was necessary if the parts that came afterwards were exactly the same as the ones you'd been through when you were alive.

Raising his foot high above his head, Sanji also wondered if pain still felt the same here too.

Turns out it did.

Everyone even bled the same. The only difference the blond could think of was the fact that he was moving like he was twenty again instead of a hundred, and that he and Zoro might have been a little bit too enthusiastic upon discovering the fact that they'd regained all of the power of their youths.

It looked like even dead people could well, _die_ here if they bled enough. Odd.

"Ne…stupid," Sanji called out, poking one of the would-be robbers with the toe of one shoe. "Maybe we can ask 'em for some information."

The swordsman smirked and sheathed his weapon. "You left one conscious? Knew you'd gotten soft in your old age."

Sanji kicked him in the head. "When are you going to realize that being dead isn't the same as being alive, idiot? Che. We've got more important things to worry about!" the chef insisted, glaring at his crewmate so strongly he felt his eye tick.

Zoro crossed his arms. "You're just jealous 'cuz none of my guys are still conscious."

Sanji slapped himself in the forehead.

Turning around and kneeling, he decided now was a good time to ignore Zoro until he went away. Instead, he shook one of the bandits, whose eyes were still fluttering slightly as he slipped in and out of consciousness. "Oi…"

Zoro glared at the cook's backside and took Sanji's ignoring him as pure acquiescence to his accusation. _So jealous_ that the swordsman was so much cooler than him.

"Oi… you alive?" Sanji questioned, shaking a little harder and eliciting a groan from his target to-be-interrogated. "Wake up, huh? I've got some questions for you."

Very slowly, an eye fluttered and came to focus on Sanji's face. "Nnngh…"

The blond smiled in self-satisfaction. Good. Now they could finally get some answers. "Got a coupla questions for you, stupid," he started in his most conversational tone, grabbing his man's collar and yanking him upward so that he arched like some sort of would-be seal. "Think you can answer 'em, or should I wake you up a little more?"

"I…I…um…go ahead, boss. I'll uh… argh…I'll uh see if I can't um, help you two any…" the man breathed, eying both newcomers warily.

"Great. Why don't we start with…where the hell are we?"

The man blinked. "You're…dead. This is Soul Society."

"Soul Society? Che…what the hell's that?"

"It's…"

"It doesn't matter if we're leavin'. Where do we find the people wearing the black hakama?" Zoro cut in, obviously not interested in the same sort of information Sanji was.

The blond glared at him. "Oi, I thought _I_ was doin' the questioning, bastard!" he protested, their defeated foe struggling for breath as the chef's grip tightened unconsciously.

The swordsman glared back. "Well that girl in black was the reason we got into this mess in the first place, wasn't it?"

"That doesn't matter! I was the one asking questions, bastard! Your questions don't even go in the right order! If we don't know where we are, then how the hell are we supposed to know where we're going?" the blond snarled up at his companion, shaking his captive bodily as he did.

"Gee, I dunno…by _not wasting time and just goin' there?_"

"Argh! You _never _know when to quit, do you? Damn muscle-for-brains."

"A-at the Court of Pure Souls… The ones in black are at the Court!"

Both pirates paused at the sound of the bandit's desperate words, as if just remembering that they'd been in the middle of the interrogation. Sanji coughed and loosened his grip on the man's throat a little bit.

"Court of Pure Souls, eh? And where's that?" the swordsman pushed, arching a thoughtful brow.

"t-the…the very center of Soul Society… the shinigami…"

Sanji blinked when he heard that, momentarily distracted by the announcement. "Death gods?"

"They're there…"

"How do we get there?" the blond pressed, not liking how any of this was sounding.

A weak arm rose and pointed westward, in the direction of the town. "S-straight through Rukongai… you'll find a gate. The Hakutomon gate and its guardian, Jidanbo. The court…is beyond those doors."

"And all the shinigami are there?" Zoro asked again, looking in the direction the bandit was indicating and frowning.

"They're there."

"How far?" Sanji asked, more practically. "How long will it take?"

"A…a few days walking."

"Hakutomon gate, huh?" Zoro rested his elbow on the hilts of his katana. "Guardian?"

"Aa. Even… even if you get there, it's impossible to pass into the court. The guardian destroys all intruders."

Sanji scowled, letting the man go and turning back to his companion. "You hear that? We can't get in. It's pointless to even think about..."

But Zoro was already at the top of the first hill, peering down at Rukongai thoughtfully.

"Oi…bastard, are you even listening to me?!" the blond demanded, rolling up his sleeves and following after the swordsman with the intent of kicking him in the head again.

"Yeah, I was," Zoro responded absently as Sanji joined him at the crest.

The chef swallowed as he took in the view that was suddenly exposed to him, momentarily forgetting his ire at the other pirate in lieu of awe at the vastness of it all. "That's…"

"Rukongai, I guess."

Sanji supposed it would have to be huge.

"Look over there," the swordsman instructed, pointing into the far distance at what appeared to be a giant white stone structure.

Sanji squinted, and then whistled appreciatively at the sheer size a rock would have to be to be visible from even this far away. "Where the shinigami are, huh?"

"Must be there… the way in."

The two of them stared at the giant gates speculatively.

After a minute, Zoro turned and grinned at his companion. "Impossible, huh?"

Sanji didn't like the look on the swordsman's face. It meant that no matter what, they were going to _do this. _"Shit."

He suddenly wished he had a cigarette.

* * *

**Two:** Going to Court 

"Why are we even _going_ there? Why go through the trouble in the first place?" Sanji demanded, frowning as he swiped his foot in the grass to get the blood off of his shoe.

Zoro scowled back at him. "Were you even listening to me?" the swordsman responded irately, vein on his forehead popping up. "'Cuz we're dead, asshole. We aren't supposed to be dead. So we go to those death gods and fix it."

Sanji grit his teeth at the idiotic sounding solution. "It's not that simple!"

Zoro blinked. "Why not?"

"ARGH." The blond searched for an effective way to explain to Zoro why storming the stronghold of _gods_ of _death _wasn't going to get them back to pirating Grand Line like in the good old days. "Look…Zoro… we're _dead._ That's not something you can _fix._"

"How do you know?"

Sanji's eye twitched. "Okay, fair enough. I don't know. But even still, you think death gods will just let anyone waltz in and out of here as they please? What if that screws up some huge cosmic balance or something?"

Zoro frowned. "Che, that's stupid," Zoro shot back. "No balance was messed up when we were alive. Why would it be messed up if we were alive again?"

Sanji, in all their years as shipmates, had never really been able to convince Zoro that his logic was _stupid_ even though it obviously was. A lot. "Argh," he muttered instead, lashing out fiercely with a foot and catching his intended victim hard in the chin, sending him barreling through the underbrush. "_That's_ stupid, for one thing!" he retaliated lamely. "And no self-respecting death god would _stand_ for it, for another!"

Zoro scoffed and smacked another thug with the hilt of his katana, sending him into blissful unconsciousness. "Then we just _make_ 'em take us back!" Roronoa insisted, losing his patience with Sanji's inability to see the beautiful simplicity of his plan.

"You mean _threaten_ the shinigami?!"

"No, just beat 'em up. No threats or anything. Keep it simple."

"ARGH."

"OI! LOOK AT US WHEN YOU'RE FIGHTING! WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK WE ARE, BASTARDS?!?!"

Sanji and Zoro simultaneously spun around to face the leader of their recent, area 42 attackers. "WE'RE NOT TALKING TO YOU!!!" they shouted in unison, turning sideways in tandem as they did and allowing two of the bandits to run each other through as they charged the former pirates from the side.

The leader blinked. "Um…fair enough."

"Che, freaking… where the hell do these guys keep _coming_ from?" Sanji asked a little while later as he and Zoro continued their trek through the fearsome districts of Rukongai.

"Heh. If everyone here's this weak, it'll be a peace of cake convincin' those death gods to let us go back," Zoro mused aloud, grinning with that idiotic sort of self-satisfaction that made Sanji want to slam his head into the nearest hard surface.

"Somehow, I don't think death _gods_ will be the same," the chef shot back. "At least the robbers are gettin' smarter though…" he conceded reluctantly, looking skyward.

They'd been traveling for three days now, passing between various townships and wooded areas as peaceably as possible, though for some odd reason, Rukongai bandits seemed to enjoy attacking the two pirates even though it seemed obvious enough to Sanji that neither of them were in possession of anything valuable, save for maybe Zoro's katana, which had, for some odd reason, followed their dead master into the afterlife.

Sanji thought that he'd heard a couple of highwaymen croak out the words "three zanpakutou" disbelievingly before they'd passed out, but the blond had figured that maybe the dead just had a different way of talking about swords and it was weird to see someone carrying around so many of the damn things.

His logic was obviously far superior to stupid Zoro's.

Zoro thought zanpakutou might be a cussword of some sort.

"It makes _sense_," Zoro had insisted as they'd continued traveling. "There's three of 'em, and if "zanpakutou" just means sword, then it'd be kinda dumb to just call them swords _again_ after you've been cut with them already. By then you'd think they'd _know_ they were swords or somethin'. I'm telling you, it's gotta be a cussword. Like… I dunno, "Three damn sexy things that beat the shit out of me" or something."

Sanji sighed calmly.

And then kicked Zoro in the head. "Why the hell would anyone call the swords that killed them _sexy_? That's not even a cussword, idiot."

"Well they are sexy, bastard."

* * *

**Three:** Gate of Hakutomon 

"Ax Festival?"

Jidanbo shrugged. "I thought it sounded cool."

Sanji sighed. "Okay, so we can't go through?"

"Nope," the enormous gatekeeper told him, in a much friendlier way than Sanji might have first anticipated.

"We need to," Zoro said, matter-of-factly, and rested his arms on his swords.

Sanji sighed, turned back to Jidanbo. "Okay, I know this is probably against the rules, right?"

The guardian nodded.

"And you've never let anyone in before, right?" the chef continued, and eyed Zoro. "Not in the like, thousands of years you've guarded this gate?"

The guardian nodded again.

Sanji threw his companion another significant look. "I see. So it _is_ impossible."

Jidanbo looked thoughtful. "Well…there was this _one_ time…"

Zoro grinned. "So it's _not_ impossible."

Sanji slapped a hand to his forehead.

He'd tried.

He really had.

The swordsman drew his swords, and Sanji went to go sit on some nearby rocks.

* * *

**Four:** Challenge 

"Pretty deserted for the shinigami stronghold, dontcha think?" Zoro mused aloud, as they strolled the empty, mazelike streets of the strange stone city.

Sanji rubbed his forehead, where a stray bit of gravel had beaned him in the head during Jidanbo's demonstration of what, exactly, his Matsuri attack was.

"Don't sulk at me, it's your damn fault for not getting out of the way quick enough," Zoro told him, because after all this time he definitely knew what that look on the blond crybaby's face meant.

"They're gonna sound the alarms any minute. And then an army of death gods is going to come raining down on us," Sanji told him instead, and kicked halfheartedly at a loose pebble at his feet.

"What, you scared?" Zoro asked, and grinned. "I'll protect you, sweetheart."

Sanji kicked him in the head. "I'm not _scared_! I just don't see what the damned point is if we're already dead, fucker."

Zoro rubbed his head this time. "Just lemme handle it, okay?"

"Handle _what_?!"

"Handle…"

The sound of voices approaching them shut both pirates up, and dodging around a nearby corner, the held their breaths as a small platoon of shinigami walked by, seemingly unaware of their presence.

"Man, this hasn't happened since Zaraki-taichou became captain, eh?"

"A direct challenge… I never thought I'd live long enough to get to watch one!"

"Che… guy's a damned coward, you ask me… tryin' to go after Hitsugaya-taichou."

"Any advantage you can get, man. He is our newest captain and all that."

"Still, should be fine, boys. He's a _captain_ any way you slice it, right?"

"And the size of my fuckin' pinky. You really think he's got a chance?"

"What's size got to do with it, dumbass? You think _you_ can take Hitsugaya-taichou on?"

"Well, I'm just sayin'…this guy obviously thinks he can."

"Either way, it'll be fun to watch, am I right?"

"'Sides, not every fuckin' day Zaraki-taichou lets us off to go do somethin' leisurely like, right?"

"Che, that's just 'cuz he wanted to watch too."

"Still, count yer blessings, man. A full day off, a good fight to watch… and you know _everyone's_ gonna be there. Hell, maybe I can get into Kurotsuchi-fukutaichou's skirt after the match and make it a three for three. Heard she's _real_ compliant, know what I mean?"

"Yeah, 'til her dad cuts you open four ways to Sunday and makes you watch him take out all yer own internal organs one by one."

The group's voices faded as they walked, and Zoro and Sanji looked at each other as they digested the new information they'd just overheard.

"No!" Sanji hissed frantically, knowing all too well what Zoro was thinking.

"Everyone's gonna be there," Zoro said—simply. "Best way to deal, you ask me."

"Fucking _hell_," Sanji grumbled, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "FINE. But let's at least see if we can't find some of their uniforms or something—least that way we won't have to fight our way _in_. Maybe."

The swordsman grinned and started following after the group of guys that had just passed them. "Easy enough."

* * *

**Five:** Discretion 

"Who the hell are you?"

"No one," Sanji said calmly, looking up at the behemoth of a man who'd come out of nowhere and suddenly gotten in his face with all this attitude.

He'd just been _standing_. Granted, guarding the bathroom door while Zoro changed and stowed bodies, but still. Just _standing._ Innocent.

"Yeah, you sure as hell look like no one," the guy said, and moved to plow through the chef in order to get into the room behind him. "Outta my way skinny, I got an important fight to prepare for."

Sanji eyed him. "Just a minute, will you? My friend's changing. He'll be done in a second."

The man turned menacing. "I've got a fight to get to in ten minutes and I need to take a goddamned piss, so kick your 'friend' outta there and lemme through. Now! And next time find a different goddamned place where the two of you can get your kicks, you sick fuck."

The cook glared. "So sorry," he started, and moved to get out of the way.

A few minutes later Zoro poked his head out of the bathroom after he finished putting on his shinigami uniform, only to find that there was a huge hulking mass of something blocking the doorway. "The hell?"

Sanji sat on the other side of the hall examining his shoes. The mass groaned when Zoro shoved the corner of the door into its ribs.

He grinned at the chef. "Oi, I thought you said we were bein' discreet?"

"We were," Sanji told him, and flicked imaginary lint off the corner of his stolen uniform. "And then _he," _he nudged the mass with his foot, "was an asshole."

"Oh," Zoro said. "Now get in here and help me with these goddamned sandals, will ya?"

Sanji sighed and kicked the body through the door, almost sending it barreling into Zoro.

"Fine."

"Watch where you're kickin' that shit, asshole!"

"We need to hide the bodies until everything's sorted out," Sanji reminded him practically—and with a particularly withering smile—the chef not mentioning that maybe he'd kicked asshole's body just a little bit harder than the rest of them. "To be discreet."

* * *

**Six:** Mistaken Identity 

"There… see? Easy," Zoro told him, and admired their handiwork.

The bathroom stall bulged dangerously with unconscious shinigami bodies, but otherwise held well enough if no one moved or breathed too hard.

"This is gonna be a piece of cake. They didn't even notice we got in," the swordsman finished with a grin.

Sanji groaned to himself— and he just _had_ to say that. "Good job, asshole."

"What?"

As if on cue, the alarm sounded.

"Jidanbou of the Hakutomon gate reports intruders in the western quarter of the court. Repeat, intruders in the western quarter of the court. Extremely dangerous. Subdue immediately. Kill if necessary. All available squadrons please report to superiors for further instructions."

Sanji slapped a hand to his forehead as the ringing bells rapidly dispelled the otherwise peaceful quietude of the bathroom.

Zoro shrugged, mentally. "Guess Jidanbou woke up."

"Guess so," the cook sighed, and was beginning to think he was getting more resigned than resentful of everything that was happening here as time went on.

A fierce knocking on the bathroom door a few minutes later got both of their attention then, and Zoro automatically moved his hands to his swords.

"Ch-challenger Ogata, th-they're calling you to the field f-for your official c-captain's challenge match! T-the captain's c-committee is waiting for you, please!" Pause. "Er, I'm Hanatarou! Uh, everyone else was called out because of the ryoka alarms so um, so I'm in charge of you now! Nice to meet you!"

"Er, be just a minute," Zoro said, and eyed Sanji. "I uh…got some indigestion."

Sanji groaned internally. "Challenger, huh?"

Zoro shrugged. "If everyone's waiting for me it's easier that way, right?"

"THAT'S NOT ACCEPTABLE LOGIC," Sanji hissed.

"I kinda wanted to fight one of these captains anyway," Zoro added, and grinned.

Sanji sighed

That, unfortunately, was something _full_ of Zoro-logic.

* * *

**Seven: **Challenger 

The stands were emptier than Sanji expected, but then again, those damned ryoka alarms were still going off, or whatever.

He slid into the seats near the top row and sat down as Zoro took the field, only a few intimidating-looking people there to watch in the box seats below him.

One of those people scoffed, loudly. "Tch. This new method's fuckin' wimpy, you ask me. Ain't allowed to kill him? Like sayin' people aren't allowed to step on bugs no more."

"Zaraki, surely you wouldn't want to see cute little Shiro-chan killed, would you?"

"Well I wanna see _someone_ killed. 'Cuz you didn't bring damned near enough goddamned booze to make this interestin' less someone bites the dust, Shunsui."

The other man smiled enigmatically. "Oh I assure you, I brought along enough."

Zaraki looked a bit mollified at that. "Well, I guess if I'm drunk enough, one of 'em gettin' beat up pretty bad'll be okay."

Shunsui laughed. "Good man, Zaraki." And the two shared a nonchalant drink.

Sanji scowled and told himself Zoro better not get beat up. Or die.

Again.

Though, when he looked at the petulant looking twerp waiting down in the field for Zoro, he supposed the swordsman wouldn't likely have much of a problem.

Hopefully.

An ancient looking man with a really long beard stood once Zoro stepped onto the field, brandishing a knobbed piece of wood and balancing on it with an air of great authority. "Challenger Ogata Kamigawa to face Hitsugaya Toushirou-taichou in a battle for the captaincy of the tenth division. No killing, twenty minute time limit. Please bow to your opponent."

Zoro and the kid bowed to each other.

They drew their swords.

* * *

**Eight:** Bankai 

Zoro was kind of getting his ass kicked.

But to be fair, the kid had a fucking _dragon_, which he'd pulled out a few minutes ago when Zoro showed himself to be no slouch on the sparring front.

Zoro didn't have a fucking dragon.

And half his goddamned body was incased in ice now. Needless to say, that brought back some damned bad memories for Sanji, sitting by and watching while the assholes next to him got drunker and drunker.

"Mmmph… this Ogata guy's pretty strong, I guess," the one with the spiked hair and the eye-patch admitted, reluctantly.

"But he's got no chance against Histugaya-taichou if he can't even conjure up shikai, let alone bankai," Kyouraku agreed. "Pity."

"Just watch and hope no one gets hurt too badly, will you?" a man with long white hair chastised, looking concerned for Zoro despite not knowing who the fuck he was.

"Don't need to call out a fuckin' sword's name to be able to use it, you ask me," Zaraki continued anyway, tossing back his sixth or seventh shot.

"Well maybe the challenger doesn't have reiatsu to spare like some of us, ne?" Kyouraku responded good-naturedly, and broke out more alcohol from… _somewhere._

Sanji bit his lip as Zoro's left arm was frozen and he fell to one knee on the field, the kid practically _flying_, encased in ice-armor and looking kind of bored now that he'd made the odds TOTALLY uneven.

Sanji glared down at the shitty swordsman, trying to think fast.

"Hyourinmaru!!!" the kid called—for the second or third time-- and prepared for the winning blow.

The dragon roared in acknowledgement and sped down towards Zoro like a snowy blade.

Zoro dodged—rolled right onto his frozen leg, but managed to avoid a critical hit.

"Hyourinmaru…" the blond muttered, and thought about it, about how the kid had said the same damned thing when his sword had transformed into that enormous serpent a little while ago. ""Bankai? Shikai? Names? What the…"

And then it hit him.

"ZORO!!!!" he shouted, standing and cupping his hands around his mouth in the hopes that the idiot would be able to hear him even this high up. "OI DUMBASS!!!!"

The drinking men sitting in front of him turned around, blinking.

"ZORO CALL THE SWORDS' NAMES!!!!" he shouted, and didn't know if anything would happen, but figured whatever shikai and bankai meant was somehow connected, if what he'd been listening to from the peanut gallery down below had meant a good goddamn.

Zoro blinked, scowled back up at the stands. "HOW THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO HELP?!" he shouted back, angry. "STUPID USELES LOVE CHEF!"

"JUST DO IT, YOU STUPID FUCK, OR YOU'RE GONNA GET BEAT BY THAT BRAT AND THEN _WHO'S _THE STRONGEST SWORDSMAN ON ALL GRAND LINE?!"

Zoro scowled and staggered to his feet at the low blow, momentarily forgetting about Toushirou and about ready to climb the stands to give that shitty cook a piece of his mind.

A blast of pure cold hit him from behind then, and he instead, he toppled over.

"Oi…don't forget who you're fighting, damned old man," the bratty white-haired kid said, and stood over him with that fucking _dragon _looming behind him like some sort of back-up goon. "Hyourinmaru!" he repeated, and his eyes glowed frost.

Third goddamned time the kid had said that, and the dragon was tossing its head and…

Zoro blinked. Looked down at the swords in his hand. "Call its name… huh?" he breathed, groaning as he spit up blood. Nothing to lose now, after all. "Why the fuck not?"

Forcibly, the Grand Line's greatest swordsman pushed himself to his feet, clutching his three weapons offensively. "Call its name… call its name…"

"Impossible," Toushirou murmured when he saw Zoro regain his legs. "Damn old man, just stay down, would you?" he cursed, thinking at this rate he might accidentally kill the challenger. While he respected the newcomer's tenacity, this was as good as over. The sooner the green-haired old man he was fighting figured that out the sooner he got to keep his life.

Well, one more good hit should down him, he supposed. Taking a deep breath, the young captain concentrated his reiatsu and shouted. "Soar in the frozen sky! Hyouin…"

"Wadou Ichimonji!!"

Histugaya stumbled backwards as the old man shouted something and an immense wall of power erupted from nowhere before he could summon his own attack again. He gaped. "This can't…"

"Sandai Kitetsu!!!"

Another.

"Yubashiri!!!"

Another…

…wait, what the_ hell_?

Toushirou, too surprised to react to the sudden tripling in reiatsu, felt Hyouinmaru's power shrink back to cover a smaller, more conservative area directly around his body, a defensive reflex action to counter the sudden onslaught. "Three different zanpakutou?!" He'd thought the other two swords were just for show—some ridiculous compensation for an obvious weakness.

But apparently…

That wasn't allowed. That wasn't _possible._

Was it?

The spectators were dead silent in awe.

Twin zanpakutou weren't unheard of in seireitei (if rare), so that didn't discount the possible existence of triplet swords. But nevertheless, a shinigami's zanpakutou, be it singular or plural, always had only one name.

Three zanpakutou with different names peacefully coexisting under the hand of one master was unheard of. And having them work so harmoniously…

It figured that his first challenger in a captain's match _ever_ would be able to pull this sort of thing off.

Hitsugaya felt a little bit shafted as he stood there, struggling to shield himself under the onslaught of monster energy, red reiatsu attacking him from one side, black from another, white from a third. "THIS ISN'T FAIR!!!" he complained, loud enough for Yamamoto-soutaichou to hear from his elevated seat.

Yamamoto, ever so slightly slack-jawed, was inclined to agree.

Sanji watched from the sidelines with his own dropped jaw at the strange shock of power Zoro's swords had suddenly released, just as surprised as the shinigami were, even after years of being around his companion's ridiculous power. But this…this was so strong it was _retarded._

The stadium remained dead silent for several moments, Zoro clenching his teeth and streaming power everywhere while the little spiky-haired kid he'd been fighting struggled under it, barely able to hold it back safely. Sanji thought that if something didn't happen soon, the whole place was going to be knocked down.

"OI!!! STUPID BASTARD, YOU HEARD THE KID EARLIER, RIGHT?! YOU GOTTA DO IT _AGAIN _FOR THE NEXT LEVEL! THAT BANKAI THING!!!! YOU ONLY SAID IT ONCE SO THAT'S GOTTA BE SHIKAI!" the blond shouted over the din, waving at Zoro threateningly. "HURRY UP, GODDAMMIT!"

Hitsugaya scowled and gritted his teeth as he heard Sanji's outburst, wanting to shout back the very obvious fact that bankai couldn't be learned on the spot, no matter how ridiculously strong someone was. Instead, he concentrated on channeling his energy for a counter attack, ready to finally use his _own_ bankai.

This was serious now.

Zoro blinked to himself. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN DO IT AGAIN?!" he shouted back at the blond incredulously, already feeling drained just from whatever it was he was doing right now. "THIS ISN'T EASY, ASSHOLE!!"

"JUST DO IT, STUPID! YOU"RE SUPPOSED TO BE STRONG, RIGHT?!"

A vein popped out in Zoro's forehead. "FINE!!!"

Fucker.

Hitsugaya, as irritated as he was at the fact that his opponent could afford to have a shouting match with someone on the sidelines, let the fact that _instant bankai_ was definitely impossible comfort him.

He moved to concentrate then, to call forth his own bankai and finish this. He was still ahead as far as physical damage went, and confident in his impending victory.

At least, until he felt the spiritual energy around him triple again.

He blinked.

"Oh fuck me."

Seriously, this wasn't funny anymore.

"BANKAI!!!!!"

Everyone in the audience winced and closed their eyes. Well, except for Zaraki, who looked like he wanted to climb on down and visit.

But before the three-headed roaring dragon that Zoro had released could hit-- as all great misunderstandings inevitably were righted-- a voice from heaven rained down over the chaos and miraculously saved young captain Hitsugaya Toushirou from demon cutting fanged-swords of doom that were so strong it was really very stupid.

"Waaaaaaiiiitttt!!!! He's not the challenger! He's one of the ryoka!"

The present captains of the Gotei-13 all stopped and stared at the panting messenger, who'd just saved the tenth division captain's life.

They blinked.

Stared at Zoro for a little bit.

Stared some at Sanji.

Blinked some more.

Yamamoto-soutaichou summed up everyone's thoughts and emotions when he turned to the messenger and said, "Wait…what?"

* * *

**Nine:** Judgment 

"They're trespassers! Execute them!"

"They're _kick ass_. Enlist them!"

"Can I fight the guy with the swords?"

"I want to examine their bodies."

"Ahh, I'm gettin' too old for this, how 'bout you, Jyuu-chan?"

"It's amazing, really."

"Punish them and then enlist them!"

"Shouldn't we tend to everyone's injuries first?"

"This is a waste of time. Consult them first."

"How do we even know if the blond one's strong though? The green-haired guy's okay, but the blond's a little skinny if you ask me…"

"I'll fight him! Then we can see, right? Ehehehehhe…yeah. Lemme at him."

"Would you shut up about the fighting for a minute?"

"You wanna die?"

"I'm _still bleeding,_ you shitty old men. Why do I have to be here?"

"EVERYONE, SILENCE!"

Zoro and Sanji looked at each other skeptically.

"Highest court in Soul Society, huh?" the blond murmured, thinking that maybe Nami-swan's, "so strong it's stupid" theory applied pretty much everywhere.

"Don't care if they're dumb, long as they let us go back," Zoro responded, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes. "I'm nappin'. Lemme know if anything important happens."

"Che. Asshole."

Zoro was already asleep.

"Ryoka!!"

The blond looked up at the sound of the oldest shinigami's voice, the guy looking down at them from his high throne like he didn't quite know what to make of the two newcomers.

Sanji looked back at him steadily. "Yeah?"

"Where did you come from, and how did you get here?"

"Um…we died, pretty much."

"Pretty much?"

"Well, we died and we spent a couple of days hanging around I guess."

There was a general murmur amongst the captains. "Lost spirits?"

"Maybe, dunno." Sanji shrugged one shoulder and rested his forearms on his bent knees, feeling suddenly tired after the whole ordeal. "But then someone dressed just like you found us… heh, she was a cutie…"

"My division's Aoyagi," Ukitake filled in. "She recognized them today when she saw them from the audience."

"Aoyagi-chan huh? I'll have to say hello to her later…hehehe…"

"So she performed konsoh on the two of you?"

"That what it's called? She did somethin' shiny with her sword and we woke up um…outsida Rukongai?"

"This was…only a few days ago?"

"Yeah."

Another murmur session.

"Your companion… his zanpakutou… did he awaken with them here?"

"Well, yeah. I thought it was kinda weird too, 'cuz I only woke up with what I'd died in and he hadn't even had his swords on and they'd tagged along…" Sanji admitted sourly, feeling slightly put-out that Zoro got to be so freaking strong here just by waking up.

"A swordsman in his mortal life, then," Yamamoto posed, thoughtful. "The blades' spirits bonded with his as a mortal and were dragged with him here without their physical bodies, becoming true zanpakutou."

"That's possible?"

"Very rare. Only the most disciplined, skilled…"

The moment was ruined when Zoro let out a particularly loud snore and rolled onto his side, scratching his ass with one hand.

Some of the captains looked skeptical. "This guy's that strong, huh?"

"Che, not that strong," Sanji scoffed reflexively.

"You're stronger?" Kenpachi made to step forward excitedly. "Wanna fight?"

"Would you silence yourself already? It's painful to listen to your idiocy."

"How 'bout I kill you first, Kurotsuchi? You'd never hear anything again, wouldn't that be nice?"

Sanji blinked back and forth between the two quarrelling captains. "Um…"

"Ignore them," Yamamoto prompted, fixing the two younger shinigami with a stare and a warning push of his reiatsu. "They're children."

They broke it up for the time being, though they continued to scowl at each other from across the short expanse.

"Now…where are the two of you from?"

"Well, we've been livin' on Grand Line for pretty much…forever, I guess."

That elicited another group murmur session.

"Grand Line… huh?" Yamamoto sighed to himself as he studied the two ryoka steadily. It figured they would be from the one world that even the _Hollows_ were too afraid to cross into.

The prey there was often stronger than the hunter.

As these two had already proven.

"Um…not that I don't mind answering all the questions or anything," Sanji began after a moment of the shinigami ignoring him. "But…what're you gonna do with us?"

Yamamoto-soutaichou stared back at him for a long while.

And then, "I've got an idea."

* * *

**Ten:** Occupation: Pirate/Death God 

It took several days to get all the signs and forms changed, but soon after what was beginning to be known as ryoka incident #2, the members of the Gotei-14 were beginning to get used to it.

"But why fourteen?" one shinigami posed thoughtfully to another. "I thought it'd always been thirteen."

"Why _not_ fourteen?" his companion responded with a shrug. "Who was the genius that said it could only be thirteen anyway?"

"I guess that's true, but it's like…tradition or something, man."

"Well, look at this way. Outta the two ryoka incidents we've ever had in seireitei… the first one _lost_ us three captains, right? So the second one _gets_ us a captain and a vice-captain and we're _still_ behind by two, one-and-a-half, take your pick. Plus, since Histugaya-taichou didn't _officially_ lose that challenge match, he can't be kicked out of his position, so… this is the best thing for everyone, right? Fair and all that."

"Um…I guess that…makes sense?"

"Besides, the food's better now, yeah?"

"Definitely."

The story of how, on some mad rampage after tasting the commissary cuisine, the new fourteenth division vice-captain had stormed the kitchens and taken it over as his own was already almost legendary amongst the ranks of seireitei's shinigami, and while there had been concerns at first with an outsider simply taking over the task of food preparation, two bites into that day's lunch had seen no one minding or complaining or doing much of anything else save shoveling food into their faces.

That was definitely another plus to be credited to the side of the newcomers.

The only problem that was beginning to arise seemed to be the rampant property damage being caused by Zaraki-taichou's constant visits to Roronoa-taichou. The two had become, well…friends, for lack of better word, though the amount of blood they lost on a daily basis when conversing with each other seemed rather excessive and astounding.

But it kept Kenpachi entertained and off everyone else's backs, and so no one could really complain about that either.

Sanji and Zoro, for the most part, seemed to be taking everything in stride, the blond feeling relieved that Zoro had decided to stop pursiung his mad plans to return home and letting them find a fresh afterlife here, since the chef was still convinced there was nothing to be done about being _dead_ other than accepting it and making something of it (and flirting with the cute female shinigami that were everywhere). He could say that he was pretty much content with the outcome of everything.

Zoro, for all intents and purposes, seemed to have forgotten his original plan and was making efforts to challenge and defeat all other zanpakutou wielders in the afterlife in order to win the title of world's strongest swordsman on two stages.

Sanji didn't mind that, so long as he got to cook _somewhere_ and there were pretty girls to fawn over.

This was for the best after all, as much as he himself would have liked to be able to return to the living world. Some things just weren't meant to happen after all, and he was a firm believer that the resurrection of the dead was one of them. He'd just make a new life, or afterlife, or whatever, here, and Zoro would too, and they'd let their former existences simply be a fond memory in the backs of their minds.

That was all they could really do anyway.

Or at least, that was what Sanji figured.

It was a few weeks later that Yamamoto-soutaichou called a meeting of the captains (and Sanji) concerning an urgent matter of the utmost importance.

Upon assembling, it was announced that Ukitake's thirteenth division would be taken off of active patrol of the Grand Line, as several members of the team had been lost, not by Hollow attack, but by pirate attack.

However, it was impossible for the Gotei-13, er, 14, to leave any realm without a regular patrol, as ghosts that were unable to cross over existed everywhere, even if Hollows did not.

"So, are there any volunteers?" the first division captain questioned, looking expectantly in the newcomers' direction.

Zoro simply grinned and--very nonchalantly-- raised his hand.

Sanji stared.

Couldn't believe it. The bastard…

…his idiotic plan had _worked_.

"Oi…Yama-jii… we'll patrol Grand Line."

**END**


	2. The Best Present Ever Period

**Title:** The Best Present Ever Period  
** Universe:** Bleach, One Piece  
**Theme/Topic:** Kenpachi's birthday?  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing/Character/s:** Eleventh division, Sanji, Zoro (sort of a KenpachixZoro fight-sexual vibe. And maybe a little SanjixYumichika "if I were drunk enough" crushing, if you want to see it. XD)  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** OOC TO THE MAX? Leave me alone.  
**Word Count: **1,068  
**Time:** LOL too short, I think. Oh well.  
**Summary:** Related drabble in the universe of "Thirteen Going on Fourteen"—Yachiru tries to come up with the best present in the world for Kenpachi on his birthday.  
**Dedication:** Kotszok- You give me the craziest ideas. I wish I could realize them better. XD;;  
**A/N: **Kenpachi's birthday fic!! Granted, Kenpachi's _retarded _birthday fic. But you know, I can always write something else for him later.   
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, though I wish constantly.  
**Distribution:** Just lemme know.

* * *

Sanji never could say no to a pretty face. _Any_ pretty face, really. And it seemed that this was true in death as much as it had been in life.

Perhaps it was especially true for this one face in particular, which was currently looking up at him with big hopeful eyes and the perfectly angelic smile of the wicked little devil that slumbered beneath.

It made him miss Nami-swan just a little bit, and he tried not to think about that too much, moved to give Yachiru another piece of cake instead. A couple of years from now and he was certain she'd turn into a strikingly spectacular young woman.

"Wee, thank you target-brow!" she beamed, and eagerly took the slice of cake before digging right in. "So will ya? Will ya please? It'll be lotsa fun I promise!" she asked, around a mouthful of chocolate and raspberry.

The fourteenth division vice-captain smiled indulgently at the little girl, ruffled her hair with his hand. "Well, I'll see what I can do, Yachiru-chan," he said, and couldn't help but remember Zoro's breathless exclamations of, "Fucking shit that bastard is crazy!" at the back of his mind, when the moron would stumble back to headquarters at all hours of the night bleeding from several locations and suddenly inspired to train _more_ despite them.

"It would make Ken-chan soooo happy!" the little eleventh division vice-captain continued to bubble, and Sanji chuckled at himself, already at her mercy. "He really wants cabbage-head to be there for his birthday!"

"Aah, I thought you would be here, fukutaichou," a slinky voice declared suddenly, and Sanji and Yachiru both turned to see the equally slinky figure said voice belonged to lounging comfortably in the doorway.

Sanji blinked owlishly at the silhouette for a moment—because that was not the silhouette of a man—before reminding himself that as often as Ayasegawa-goseki threw his aesthetic sensibilities off, he was still a _he_ no matter how particularly illustrious his hair was.

"Yumi-pon!" Yachiru exclaimed brightly, by way of greeting. "Want some cake?"

Yumichika smiled. "Fukutaichou, I thought I told you not to bother Sanji-san like this, ne? He's very busy you know."

"No bother!" Sanji assured the pretty fifth seat. "Would you like some cake?" he offered, before he could help himself.

Yumichika really did throw him the hell off.

"No thank you," Yumichika declined, smiling politely even as his eyes smoldered with some sort of unnamed "what-if."

Sanji swallowed and thought maybe it might have had something to do with the cake.

Then again, it might not have either.

"But spiral-brows said he'd try'n help us with Ken-chan's birthday present!" Yachiru revealed. "I _hadta_ bother him so I could ask!"

Yumichika chuckled indulgently. "He offered did he?"

"Maybe," Sanji said. "I didn't make any promises though."

Yumichika winked. "Very much appreciated, but I'm sure we'll find our own way of handling things."

Sanji lit a cigarette and eyed the pretty fifth-seat for a moment. "Well, I guess you don't need me then," he deemed, after a puff or two. "And you especially wouldn't need me if I told you that the back door to the commissary will be left open tonight and Jyuuyonbantai-taichou-sama's special dinner tray will be on the left hand counter with his name on it. There will be soup."

Yumichika sparkled. "_Exactly_ why we wouldn't need your help, as kind an offer as it is. Thank you, Sanji-san. Well then, fukutaichou, shall we go make preparations?"

"Okay!"

Sanji watched the two leave and sighed to himself wistfully.

It was exactly like he'd said.

He never could say no to a pretty face.

Which was, perhaps, the reason behind how Zoro was fairly certain he'd been eating soup by himself at one instance that evening and at the next, suddenly found himself waking up blearily to the sound of party poppers and the gruff chant of what could only be the manliest of men's "Happy birthday, taichou!!!" ten sword salute.

"Buh?" Zoro grunted, and blinked himself awake. His vision swam for a little bit, but cleared up rather quickly once someone began to lightly smack at his face to get the blood going again.

"Wonderful to have you with us, Jyuuyonbantai-sama," Ayasegawa's sugar-sweet voice greeted. "You're awake just in time for the festivities!"

Zoro stared. "Festivities?"

Yumi nodded. "It's taichou's birthday!"

At that, something in Zoro's very rarely used self-preservation system coughed and sputtered at him to be cautious. Weakly. He thought it might be some sort of a warning. Maybe. "Huh?" he asked.

"And of course, we could only think of one suitable present for such an important day," Yumichika continued, and winked at Zoro like that was supposed to mean something in particular to him.

Oh wait.

"Fuck," Zoro said, and maybe sort of realized what was going on.

"Please have fun! The eleventh division is proud of its reputation for throwing the most…memorable parties," Yumichika continued, like Zoro hadn't even spoken at all.

And then the swordsman was being shoved forward, and there were some loud cheers, the sounds of clashing swords and clanking mugs, the feeling of a monster reiatsu trying to shove its way past his skin and devour his flesh.

"Fuck," Zoro grunted, and shook his head a little because whatever date-rape pill they'd slipped him earlier was kind of making sounds a little bit louder than they ought to be, making that monster reiatsu trying to eat his flesh a little more prickly than normal.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TAICHOU!" the crowd roared again.

"This is the present me'n Yumi and Ikkaku got you!" Yachiru said then, when Zoro was pushed out on the open floor towards Zaraki. "So you and cabbage-head can fight! All night long if ya want!"

Zoro blinked. "Fuck."

Zaraki—from his seat of honor—grinned. "Best present ever," was all he said before he stood and drew his sword.

"And curly-brows made the cake!!" Yachiru felt the need to add.

Zoro managed—just barely-- to block the first series of blows aimed at his head and told himself that the moment he got back—even if he was missing all his goddamned arms and legs—he was going to find a way to strangle that idiotic, can't-say-no-to-a-pretty-face love-cook.

Kenpachi in the meantime, had the time of his life.

All in all, it was a very special birthday.

For both of them.

Sort of.

**END**


	3. Manifest

**Title: **Manifest  
**Universe:** One Piece/Bleach  
**Theme/Topic: **N/A  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Character/Pairing/s:** Sanji (mentions of Zoro)  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** None I can imagine.  
**Word Count:** 2,810  
**Summary:** In the Thirteen Going on Fourteen Universe- Sanji hears a voice.  
**Dedication:** I was going to dedicate this to kotszok, but then I realized there is only bloody Sanji and no bloody Zoro. OOPS.**  
A/N:** ER. I don't know, really. The idea, the inspiration, the_ accent_, it just sort of HAPPENED. The only thought I had before starting this was that it would only be fair, considering Zoro's got you know, THREE. Also, sort of inspired by capslockop's weekly crossover day, EVEN THOUGH I MISSED IT ENTIRELY. AGAIN. And I really don't have any better explanation than that. It's 3 am and I'm still writing, OKAY?  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, though I wish constantly.  
**Distribution:** Just lemme know.

* * *

He wasn't self-conscious about it because as far as he was concerned, there was nothing to be self-conscious about.

And if other people thought it was something he should be self-conscious about, well, Sanji just rolled up his sleeves and showed them how much it wasn't. Giving them outright proof that they were stupid and wrong was the fastest way to shut them up, after all.

Like, for instance, whenever the people who were—supposedly—under his and Zoro's command asked where his zanpakutou was and if the man in charge of something as trivial as the commissary even had the right to a prestigious title like fukutaichou, Sanji simply lit a smoke and proceeded to kick them up and down the courtyard for a few hours—swords and all— until it was time to go start his preparations for the next meal.

Pretty soon everyone (in the fourteenth division at least) figured out that it was something their division vice-captain wasn't self-conscious about. In fact, it was maybe even something he didn't _need _to be self-conscious about.

Because they realized that there were indeed people in this world who didn't have to carry weapons and could still make it hurt anyway.

Unfortunately, Zoro wasn't one of those people (and for some god awful reason, he outranked Sanji).

"I got three," he would glee at the chef, like that was _something new_, and then would proceed to promise that he'd protect Sanji no matter what, since Sanji was helpless and pathetic and sad and didn't have anything cool like a sword with a name that could talk and do swirly shiny things with his reiatsu with. While he had _three._

Sanji remembered a day long ago, when he got to make fun of the dumbass swordsman for talking to his swords and _needing _three in the freaking first place. Because back when they'd been alive—back in _the real world_— that sort of thing was straight up _crazy_.

But now, here, not only did everyone walk around with sharp pointy things strapped to their hips, they also all seemed to carry on meaningful conversations with them in their free time as well. And regrettably, Sanji was left to wonder if Zoro'd had the right idea all along (which chafed him something awful, to be honest).

Zoro only grinned at him and patted his zanpakutou. "Don't worry sweetheart," he leered at the chef, "I already said I'd protect you, didn't I?"

Needless to say, Sanji ended up kicking Zoro in the head a lot, captain or no.

Because there was _nothing to be self-conscious about_.

But even still, after a few months—somewhere in-between all his meal planning, kicking Zoro in the head, and proving time and time again that he didn't need a damned zanpakutou both to himself and his fucking asshole captain— he began hearing a voice.

In his dreams, he heard something whisper his name.

Eerily close, familiar and foreign all at the same time.

It laughed at him like Zoro did, but when the dream-him moved to kick it he always ended up flat on his own ass and confused—bowled over by some amazing force— like the wind itself was there with him, mocking him. Invisible.

Tonight he dreamed of not only that voice but a whole world that was a little bit sideways as well, and finding himself in such an abstract universe instantly made him panic, made him scramble desperately to find his bearings despite his knowing on some level that this was all some sort of stupid dream.

The voice repeated his name like an old friend.

Like it knew Sanji.

The chef responded by shouting angrily at it, telling the fucker to come out and fight fair. "What do you want, asshole?!" he screamed into the blank white sky above him—to the left of him, whatever— and thought the bastard really needed its ass kicked, whatever it was.

"Want? Moi? Acknowledgement, of course, cher!" the voice replied, and chuckled playfully before disappearing into nothing again, leaving the blond to himself in this weird universe of white sky and a million stationary black boxes. He thought they looked like refrigerators.

When he woke from those dreams he didn't ever remember the details exactly— just the laughter— and it always put him in a bad enough mood that he usually kicked Zoro in the head more than once within the first few hours of their morning work.

Especially when the big meat head grinned and made his usual retarded cracks about how the blond's zanpakutou was probably that big old kitchen knife he always seemed to have in his hand. "Sloppy and inelegant," Zoro chortled—with rice stuck to the corner of his mouth— "just like the love chef would be with a sword."

After—for the umpteenth time—assuring Zoro he didn't need any sort of weapon besides his own two feet (i.e. by slamming one of them into the underside of the idiot marimo's jaw), Sanji told his idiot captain he had food on his face before going outside to take a cigarette break and brood to himself.

He watched his cigarette smoke curl up into the blue sky overhead, and wondered why the image suddenly seem so startling, even after years and years of heavy smoking. A strong wind hit him halfway through his break and blew the light out entirely.

For some reason, it was really annoying.

But that was stupid, and so he told himself it was fine before going back inside to finish the lunch preparations.

There was nothing to be self-conscious about.

Which may or may not have been true, but as it turned out, he did need a zanpakutou after all.

He acknowledged it during his first-ever battle with an arrankar, and while he was getting the shit cut out of him by the grinning bastard, he thought that if he made it out of this alive somehow, Zoro would never let him live it down. Hell, if he died, the fucker probably wouldn't let him live it down either.

_Don't got one. Could sure use one right about now, _were his exact thoughts, and he almost couldn't believe he was thinking them.

But no time to worry about that exactly, so he concentrated on fighting his hardest like he always did, with his life and his pride as a cook of the sea on the line.

All he could do was his best.

When the thing stabbed him right in the chest he went down in a brilliant shower of blood, though not before delivering one last, gasping kick to the creature's face, chipping off bone fragments from its hideous mask with the force of the blow. It snarled and backhanded him into the trunk of an enormous tree, and as he felt ribs snap like twigs inside of him, he thought that now wouldn't be such a bad time to return to the mortal world, maybe. He hoped he got to be a great chef of the sea again, in his next life.

"Such morbid thoughts so soon after my acknowledgement, my love? We have only known each other for a very short time, no? Where is your fire, hmm? Your joie de vivre? We've not danced together yet, and that would be such a crime, my young cher."

That voice again, the laughing creature from his dreams. It was louder now, more insistent, perhaps even more amused than it had been when it visited him in sleep.

"Who are you?" the chef demanded as the world began to fade out from around him in slow motion. He wondered if this was true death maybe—the end of everything he was and could have been when faced with an almost unstoppable foe. "What do you want?"

"Ah, my sweet love, all I want is to get to know you better, yes? Wouldn't you like that too?"

Annoying—it was all very annoying, and Sanji thought that if he was going to die, he'd rather die in peace, without this nagging whatever it was whispering low and sweet into his ear, while blood trickled out of his mouth, gushed from the wounds in his body. "Leave me alone."

"Ah, such bitterness! You had such potential too, when I saw you. Love at first sight, no? Are you truly alright, cher, with dying like this?"

It did grate on Sanji a little, to know Zoro was probably out there having a grand old time while he couldn't even hold himself up anymore, when he felt the life and reiatsu leaking out of him drip by drip while he was too tired to do anything about it. He hated to lose, after all. Most of all to that green-headed idiot bastard with three swords.

"Well?" the voice asked, and tendrils of smoke touched his skin, like fingers drawing gently across his face. "Shall we dance after all? Will you let me lead for just a little while?"

"Who are you?" he repeated, when he could speak again, when he forced himself pull his eyes open. He saw a familiar white sky above now, instead of that awful arrankar forest he'd been in, saw a sideways world of endless blocks and blocks and blocks rather than his last opponent's gaping maw. "Where are we?"

"A familiar place, no? Somewhere inside of you. Little boxes of your life, stored away so neatly in your heart, cher! I've had such a lively time going through them all! But some, some I cannot open. Tragic, no? Perhaps you have a key."

Sanji felt himself losing patience, and struggled—haphazardly—to his feet. Blood was everywhere. "Inside of me?"

"That is where zanpakutou come from, yes?"

And there it was.

Sanji felt the breath as it stole from his lungs, he now faced with the thing that had been eluding him for so long in this bizarre world called seireitei. "My…zanpakutou."

"Oui! I've been trying very hard to speak to you, but you, you do not like the weapons, yes? I know that about you, I think. One box I could cut open by myself, cher."

Cut?

Right. Right. Zanpakutou were katana. Like Zoro's, like Zaraki's, like everyone else's.

"My… sword?" Sanji breathed aloud, and the whole concept was distasteful to him even if he could admit to needing the help. He had never had any interest in such things, after all.

He sighed, and it burned inside. "My sword."

The wispy being laughed at him. "I am a _blade_, cher, there's a difference, no? You should not generalize when you do not even know my name, I think."

"Piss me off," Sanji muttered, because he already couldn't stand his zanpakutou and they'd just met. "So what's the difference?"

"The difference? Well, I suppose I don't have to be swung," the voice purred, like it knew something Sanji didn't. "That is okay with you, yes? I know that about you too, I think."

Sanji sighed. "So? What do you want with me now?"

"To be great friends of course, my love," the voice declared with infinite sweetness, all while a mysterious white smoke began to curl around the blond's body. It was like a physical touch, and for just a moment—a second really— Sanji felt his wounds stop hurting, the blood stop gushing out of him as it slowed to a trickle. "Two is stronger than one, yes?" Pause. "But, I suppose, the choice is ultimately up to you, cher. Shall we dance together, finally?"

Sanji thought about this for a minute, vision blurring around the edges. He licked dry lips, took a slow breath. Smoke filled his lungs, and it was familiar. In the end, it was somehow, completely familiar. "If I say no, I die, right?"

"Oui. You are in no place to play with these new friends you have made, my lovely. But, it is as always, up to you." The smoke withdrew from its cocoon around him then, and just as swiftly, the pain returned—Sanji gasped and staggered, falling to his knees.

In the distance, he thought he could hear the sounds of battle raging on, probably that idiot marimo causing widespread destruction as he let his massive reiatsu burn a hole in the very walls of the universe itself.

Fucking show off.

Sanji coughed and could feel the blood filling his lungs, could feel that dull ache rattling deep in his chest that would only get worse the longer he lingered like this.

Dying. It felt like dying.

He gritted his teeth.

Well fine then.

If he was a shinigami, he would have a zanpakutou. But on his own terms. He'd see what this laughing idiot could do for him.

That decided, he stumbled back onto his feet, stubborn, determined. "What do I have to do?" he asked, and glared hard at the swirling smoke.

The voice laughed—low and seductive. "Do? Mon ami, first thing is first no? Let me introduce myself."

And then everything went white.

When he came to he was standing again—somehow—and filled with a strange strength that made the pain stop, made his injuries knit together, slowed his breathing to even and cleared the blurry edges around his vision.

A gust of wind blew through the dead forest—warm and familiar—causing the heads of several Arrankar to turn towards him again.

"Still alive?" the one who had stabbed him asked, and grinned, tossing aside the gutted body of one of the shinigami it'd been toying with. "Surprising, since you don't even have a sword, fukutaichou."

Sanji glared at it, and was more pissed off now than he'd been when he thought he was dying. "For the last time, I don't need a goddamned sword!!"

It smirked, amused at the little shinigami's insistence despite his state of obvious injury. "So we shall see." And then it was darting forward again, just as fast and dangerous as Sanji remembered.

He dodged the first swipe on instinct—somehow faster than the arrankar now— and felt the air carry him farther than he would have gone on his own, out of the creature's reach. It was like flying for a moment, and just when he was about to question it, he felt a familiar presence laugh in his ear, light and euphoric. "Just a blade, yes?" it asked.

"Just a blade," Sanji conceded with grim determination, and flexed his leg anticipatorily.

He looked down at the surprised Arrankar as it whirled to try and reroute its attack. "Let's dance then, pain-in-my-ass."

"How rude!" his zanpakutou laughed. "But I am charmed anyway, I think. Lead on, cher!"

Sanji didn't need any more encouragement than that, and setting his mouth in a hard line, did exactly that. Turning mid-air, he used all the force of himself and that of his partner as well, gathering it around him as he pivoted, extended his right leg, and kicked as hard as he could.

The force of his attack—nothing but smoke and air— hurtled down at the fast approaching arrankar below.

And Sanji watched, almost disbelieving—yet somehow _not—_ as the energy of his kick began to take form as it hurtled towards its target, white smoke curling hot around the edges until they formed instead, the curved edge of a _blade_. From air to steel in less than a second.

It carved the head right off of the attacking Arrankar, and the residual force was enough to disintegrate its body as well, blowing it away in particles of bloody dust.

The thing didn't even have time to scream.

Sanji's feet touched the ground a moment after, light and graceful.

He blinked, and stared at the arrankar-turned-bloodstain-in-the-dirt. "Huh."

"Ah, I knew we would dance so well together, cher."

And while that was all very well and good, Sanji simply grunted and turned then, sticking his hands casually into his pockets.

The glowing eyes of a dozen more opponents glared back at him. Them.

"That was only the first number, pain-in-my-ass," he murmured, and flexed the muscles in his calves anticipatorily.

His zanpakutou only laughed, loud and bright. "My name, cher, my name!"

Sanji grinned as seven arrankar converged upon them, all at once. This blade of his really was going to be a no-good pain-in-his-ass. But at least they understood each other. "Alright, alright. Shut up and dance already… Hauteclere."

The blade practically hummed with satisfaction at hearing its own name, and Sanji felt the reiatsu inside of him double from the mere sound of it.

"Now, cher," Hauteclere sang, "now we are communicating."

They swept forward then, and Sanji made a mental note to get the happy idiot to stop calling him that even if it killed them both.

But as it was, he supposed that they really did dance beautifully well together.

**END**


	4. A Day or Two in the Afterlife

**Title: **A Day (or Two) in the Afterlife  
**Universe:** One Piece/Bleach  
**Theme/Topic: **N/A  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Character/Pairing/s:** Zoro, Sanji, Nami, Kenpachi (mentions of Kuukaku and slight LuffyxNami)  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** None I can imagine.  
**Word Count:** 2,390  
**Summary:** In the Thirteen Going on Fourteen Universe- The days in seireitei tick by. No one gets any smarter.  
**Dedication:** for alitabangel because your joy at Sanji's pain always makes me happy. Also for pyratxo for help with Zoro's sword names. **  
A/N:** Fic that follows "Manifest" and probably rivals it in silliness. Once again speed-written to try and make it on time for Crossover Saturday at capslockop. Hence there are probably six billion mistakes in this crack fest. XD  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, though I wish constantly.  
**Distribution:** Just lemme know.

* * *

**1.**

"You can't pick a skull-and-crossbones for the goddamned division flower! First of all, not a flower! Second, I am in charge of _food preparation_ do you know what a skull-and-crossbones even means in that context?!"

"Sure," Zoro snorted around a mouthful of cake, like the answer should be obvious. "Pirates."

Sanji slapped a hand to his forehead.

"I think you all oughta have pansies," Zaraki suggested.

"NOBODY ASKED YOU!" Sanji screamed, and wished the eleventh division captain would just finish his dessert and _go home_ already.

Zoro in the meantime, predictably rose to the bait. "What was that, umi-head?" he asked, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Zaraki just grinned and put down his fork. He had some cake on the corner of his mouth and failed to look scary because he ate like a four-year-old. "You heard me. Pansy. Because your _pansy_ little ass never wants to _fight_ me because yer _scared_ all the time."

Zoro glowered and stood, before drawing his swords. "Scared, huh?"

Sanji sighed. "Better do it quietly if you're going to do it assholes," he said. "If you get too loud the soufflés will fall and then _both of you get dish duty after dinner I swear it_."

Zoro and Kenpachi fought quietly.

In the meantime, Sanji pondered the whole division flower thing some more, because he really couldn't rely on a moron like Zoro to pick out the proper symbol for their fledgling division all by himself.

"Cher," a voice sing-songed in his ear just a moment or two later, "I think a rose would be nice, yes? They are such pretty flowers, and an apt symbol of our beautifully blossoming love, don't you think?"

"You shut the fuck up," Sanji snapped, and momentarily drew strange looks from the two combatants behind him.

"He finally go crazy?" Zaraki asked, and blinked.

Zoro shrugged. "Probably."

Sanji rubbed his temples. "Zoro, he called you a pansy, remember?"

"Oh right."

The fight resumed.

Later, when his captain was too busy lolling from blood loss to complain about it, Sanji gave up and submitted the pansy design to Yamamoto-soutaichou, if only because he knew it would piss Zoro the hell off when he came to.

Zaraki in the meantime, was forced to do the dishes that night.

**2.**

Zoro was forced to do the dishes the following day (because no one escaped punishment in the fourteenth division), and as Zaraki ate cake and watched (because apparently he never wanted to _go home_), the eleventh division captain couldn't help but marvel at how quickly Roronoa cleaned those fucking things.

Sanji only smirked. "You should see him mop the floors."

**3.**

In their free time they searched all of Soul Society for old friends, but were told by some of their subordinates that looking for people who died twenty, ten, and five years ago was pretty difficult (near impossible, really) in a place like Rukongai. First, there was a highly likely chance that the people they were looking for had already been killed by bandits (which Zoro personally found extremely unlikely all things considered, and Sanji was inclined to agree), and if not the bandits, then there was also the chance that they'd simply reentered the reincarnation stream themselves (which, Zoro admitted, was more likely, and Sanji was again inclined to agree). Finally, in the least likely case of all, they _were_ still out there, but Rukongai was so huge that it was impossible (most of the time), to find any _one_ person there, let alone three.

Their subordinates clearly didn't know these people they were searching for then, because if they had they would also have known that Zoro and Sanji's old comrades were the type of people who were very easy to find when they wanted to be, all things considered.

But along that same vein, Zoro and Sanji surmised that since they hadn't _yet _been found, their friends had probably been reincarnated already, since they hadn't heard of any a: large scale binging and/or property destruction caused by any one man, b: talking reindeer, or c: elegantly beautiful women who just so happened to sprout extra limbs every now and again at will.

There was also the theory that the Devil's Fruit abilities were named in honor of their price, but no one ever talked about that _other_ possibility regarding where taichou and fukutaichou's nakama had ended up while they were in the presence of either of the two fourteenth division leaders. Well, to be more accurate, no one brought it up if they didn't want a shinigami captain's blade/s at their throat or a good swift kick to the ass/head/ribcage/vital organ systems to follow swiftly thereafter.

Besides, there wasn't enough convincing and good-sense in the world to stop the two former pirates from looking either way.

Because neither of them ever stopped hoping.

**4. **

Sanji spent what little free time he had trying to get to know his zanpakutou better.

Not because he enjoyed the annoying bastard's company or anything like that, but because he really couldn't stand the fact that Zoro had gotten to bankai in about three-point-two-seconds with _all_ _three swords_ while he was having trouble trying to coerce just _one_ of the stupid things into cooperating with him.

"Well, my little love," Hauteclere would say whenever Sanji grew impatient, "Your Roronoa-taichou spent a lifetime wooing those three pretty ones, no? We have only known each other for a very few months now. I hope you at least know I am not that kind of man. At least buy me dinner first, have a conversation with me, yes? Charm me, cher, and I am sure I will put out soon!"

Sanji really hated his zanpakutou.

**5.**

Almost a year after their first appearance in seireitei, news reached Sanji and Zoro from one of their patrols on grand line— the most famous cartographer in all the world had died not long after completing her life's work.

The two of them took one look at each other and then were off—Sanji leaving their sputtering third seat in charge of the dinner preparations and Zoro having to take a rain check on today's fight with Zaraki (which caused all _sorts_ of problems for Ikkaku and Yumichika later).

They found Nami two weeks after they first heard the news, living it up in a high rise casino in one of Rukongai's better known gaming districts, having just become the newly indoctrinated Madame of the joint in its entirety. Rumor has it she won the business in a high stakes poker game that, as far as Zoro was concerned, she'd probably cheated in. She'd named the place the "Merry go Round," and they'd recognized her flag without the shadow of a doubt from a mile away.

When they walked through the plush red doors she was there as expected, enthroned at the hall's premiere table while she held court with a group of high rolling admirers. She looked exactly as they'd remembered her. Though to be fair, a brilliant, bright woman was the only thing either of them had _ever_ seen when they'd looked at her, whether she be nineteen or seventy.

"Nami-swan, _magnificent_!!!" Sanji cried, and hearts filled his eyes as he practically floated to her side.

Zoro stared. Diamond chandeliers, free-flowing champagne, servant boys as far as the eye could see. "Tch. Demon woman," he muttered under his breath as he stalked over to her table, feeling at once out of place and at home here. Out of place simply because he wasn't used to the riches and vice and the fancy dress code, but at the same time, at home because he _was_ pretty used to being in a world where she owned everything he touched.

She really was an unbelievable demon woman, no question about it.

But even still—even still— there was something in Roronoa Zoro's eyes that looked happy when he saw her there, safe and sound and as rich as god.

Not that he'd actually believed those famed Rukongai bandits of myth and legend had had a real chance against her in the first place or anything.

**6.**

She'd been lost at first, she told them later, when she was recounting the tale of her arrival here. "I was in the middle of these _huge_ fields and there was nothing for _miles_. It was very confusing. I would have thought heaven had more…well, of this." She waved around them, to the in-house band, the champagne, the craps tables and the poker games.

"Che. What makes you so sure you were going to heaven?" Zoro snorted, and earned himself a kick to the head from his vice-captain.

Nami ignored him. "Anyway, I started walking and walking and walking, and just when I thought I would _collapse_ from exhaustion; I saw this really _weird_ house."

Zoro blinked. "Weird how?"

It had these _huge__arms_ holding up a banner over it! Of course it was weird!"

"And what, you robbed the inhabitants blind, redecorated out of the goodness of your heart, and found yourself here?"

Sanji kicked Zoro in the head again.

"I knocked of course," Nami twittered. "Kuukaku-san and I hit it off right away."

"Kuukaku-san? Shiba Kuukaku?"

Nami beamed. "The one and only!"

Zoro tried not to have nightmares imagining what that meeting must have been like.

Sanji in the meantime, drooled a little.

It made Roronoa-taichou wonder if he and his vice-captain even lived on the same plane of existence.

**7.**

When they patrolled Grand Line they usually didn't have to worry about hollows or arrankar, because on Grand Line, there were things that ate hollows and arrankar for breakfast.

What they did have to worry about were the surly ghosts who didn't want to cross over just yet, and the fights they got into with those bastards when they were trying to convince them it was their time to go after all.

But on the rare occasion when there wasn't even something of that magnitude to deal with, the two shinigami sometimes visited a certain ship with a certain crew on it, because as far as either of them was concerned, there was something about one's legacy that a person would always be protective over, even in death.

The captain of that certain crew aboard that certain ship was orange-headed and lively, and when he laughed it was with every bit of his heart. There was that legendary D attached to his name too, but fortuitiously, nothing that had to do with monkeys as well. He had his mother to thank for that.

His first mate slept all day and squabbled with the cook in the rare moments when he was awake, just like their two senseis had, once upon a time.

They were all so strong it was really very stupid, and so Zoro and Sanji never lingered for very long. Because no matter how they threw it, there really was no need for them to stay and watch over these people.

When they returned to Soul Society after those visits they always stopped by Nami's place and had a couple of drinks afterwards—chatted for a while and ran up their tabs because no matter what world they were in, they would always owe her money.

They found that on those days more than any others, she was always eager to hear whatever it was they had to say.

**8.**

When Sanji reached bankai he thought he'd have something cool to say just like everyone else who had it did, something along the lines of "Soar in the frozen sky," or "Scatter," or hell, even "Roar."

But no.

Because Hauteclere was a bastard, and was apparently determined to make Sanji look like an idiot for the rest of his days.

As if the stupid thing's name wasn't bad enough already.

Zoro got to shout, "Charge, Wadou Ichimonji," "Rend, Sandai Kitetsu," and/or "Sedate, Yubashiri," depending on the sword (or combination of swords) that he wanted to use at any one given time, and truth be told, there was not a one of those three words that wasn't very manly and properly intimidating in a very clear-cut, direct kind of way. The fact that the stupid bastard had the convenience of owning an attack type, a kidou type, and a healing type Zanpakutou all at once was already unfair enough as it was. The cool summons on top of all of that was just _pushing_ it.

And while Sanji supposed his attack word had a very, very intimidating _meaning _when put in the context of a battle the fact that it was one of those phrases only a select few seemed to be able to decipher (not unlike Hauteclere's name actually), made it seem much sillier sounding than it was to an untrained ear.

"But it fits, no?" his sword offered, sounding sly. "And I think, cher, that it will be properly appreciated once everyone sees what we can do with it, don't you?"

Sanji supposed his pain-in-his-ass zanpakutou had a point with that.

So he saved it for the time when it was most needed, at the height of danger with ten arrankar bearing down on him and his forces with no taichou in sight.

Sanji lit a cigarette, stretched his legs, and solemnly declared, "Filet, Hauteclere."

When he was done—and everyone under his command had witnessed what "filet" actually _meant _when applied to the bodies of the ten arrankar—Sanji's eyes dared anyone to laugh at him about it.

No one did.

**9.**

Zoro did.

He laughed and laughed and laughed when he heard about it some time later, and Sanji thought he might have tried his bankai out _on_ the bastard if Hauteclere wasn't already too busy trying to chat up Yubashiri with regards to the beautiful chaos they could make together.

Sanji sighed and wondered what he would have to do to petition to get back into the reincarnation stream himself.

The sooner the better.

**10.**

When they heard that a great warrior of the sea who'd commanded eight thousand men in his lifetime had died peacefully in his sleep with his children and grandchildren gathered all around, Zoro and Sanji looked at each other and set out for Rukongai right away.

Just in case that great warrior of the sea had accidentally forgotten to bring his eight thousand man army with him on the trip over.

**END**


	5. If this is your Greatest Rival

**Title:** If This is Really Your Greatest Rival You Clearly Do Not Deserve Any Pie  
**Universe:** Bleach/One Piece  
**Theme/Topic:** Zoro and Sanji meet Ichigo  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Character/Pairing/s: **Zoro, Usopp, Sanji, Ichigo, Kenpachi, Rukia  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** Just for the stupid, I'd imagine.  
**Word Count:** 1,403  
**Summary:** Follow-up of sorts to "A Day (Or Two) in the Afterlife"- Ichigo gets roped into the greatest rivalry of all time.  
**Dedication:** tokkichan's request from a billion years ago. I finished this um, quite a while earlier but I hated it too much to post. However, I feel guilty now, for having everyone wait so long, so I am just going to try and finish the last of the animanga requests I got from the previous round of requests and go from there. SORRY THIS IS NO GOOD.  
**A/N:** Not funny, not funny, not funny. OOC. LOTS OF OOC. Just pretend it is crack parody or something. I dunno.  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, though I wish constantly.  
**Distribution:** Just lemme know.

* * *

It's a day like any other in the fourteenth division headquarters—Sanji is cutting vegetables in preparation for dinner and Usopp has been forced into slave labor dishwashing by his tyrannical vice-captain while Zoro and Kenpachi are facing off against one another in the dining hall (but have to mind the new crystal light fixtures while they're at it, because Sanji just had them put in two days ago and has warned the two captains fair and square that if they break anything they will pay for it in ways that involve wearing frilly aprons and calling the other shinigami "master" while they take their orders during the dinnertime rush). 

That said, Zoro and Zaraki are being very careful about how they cross blades.

Such is the atmosphere of Soul Society's dining hall when Ichigo and Rukia arrive outside its doors, Rukia dragging the orange-headed shinigami there by his wrist in search of pie.

"It's really good now!" she assures him. "You have to try it before you go."

"I don't care if it's good or not! This is where Zaraki hangs out, isn't it?!" Ichigo shrieks, and tries to pull out of her grip frantically. "I'll eat when I get home. Woman, let me go!"

Rukia ignores him— he clearly does not understand how delicious this pie is— and pushes into the cafeteria doors.

Which— incidentally— makes them just in time to catch the fourteenth division captain as he goes skidding across the floor after he is struck hard across the jaw. Even still, he manages to land on his feet somehow, crouched and glaring at his opponent. There is blood dribbling down his chin from the wound inside his mouth.

Zoro grins darkly at Zaraki and boosts his reiatsu. "That all you…"

But Zaraki suddenly isn't paying attention to him anymore; he's turned towards the doorway and his one eye gets huge.

"ICHIGO!" he says, and smiles manically.

"Shit," Ichigo murmurs, and tries to turn around and walk out again like he hadn't heard Zaraki call his name just now.

But Rukia is still holding his arm; she very calmly asks Kenpachi about whether there is still pie left.

Zoro blinks when Zaraki breezes right past him towards the newcomers.

"Think there's still some left if you hurry, Kuchiki. Ichigo, let's fight," Zaraki suggests, and forget the fact that there are three really deep scratches across the eleventh division captain's chest that _Zoro_ had put there just now, apparently Kenpachi has found himself a bigger challenge.

"Oi," Zoro growls, and stands and crosses his arms. "What the fuck?"

Zaraki looks back at him as if just remembering that they'd been fighting. "Aw, you jealous, baby?" He grins.

Zoro snorts. "If you're going to waste my time like this you might as well leave now."

"No it's fine, I'll leave," Ichigo suggests. "Sorry to interrupt. Please continue what you were doing."

Kenpachi grins and smacks the kid hard on the back once. "This is Ichigo," Zaraki tells Zoro. In the meantime, Ichigo is still trying to run the other way. He continues to fail miserably because Kuchiki has that iron grip of hers on his wrist.

"No I'm not!" Ichigo says, "Ichigo is not here. You're dreaming. WOMAN LET GO OF ME."

"I want pie," Rukia tells him. "We're getting pie first."

Zoro blinks when he hears the name and can't believe what he is seeing. "Ichigo?" he murmurs, arching a brow as he studies the teen. "Wait, _that's_ the last guy who kicked your ass?" he barks at Kenpachi, and nearly falls over laughing at the other captain when he figures it out.

Kenpachi frowns indignantly. "This guy is strong!" he assures Zoro. "Even if he looks like a complete pansy."

"Sure he's strong. We're officially not rivals anymore," Zoro shoots back, and sheathes his katana. "Because now I'm embarrassed for you."

"Oi, he is strong!" Kenpachi insists, and to prove it, grabs Ichigo by the collar of his uniform and picks him up. Rukia obligingly releases the orange-haired shinigami to Zaraki's care and heads to the back to ask Sanji for pie.

"Do you want anything, Ichigo?" she asks over her shoulder, out of courtesy.

"MY FREEDOM?" Ichigo shouts after her as his legs dangle helplessly in the air.

"I'll bring you blueberry. That one's good," she says, and disappears into the kitchen.

"I HATE YOU," Ichigo feels the need to tell her, before slapping lamely at Kenpachi's big fist where it is bunched in his gi. "Let me go, I don't want to fight you."

"Sounds like he's a pansy to me," Zoro snorts.

"Shut up for a second," Zaraki growls to the former pirate, and then turns back to Ichigo. "Oi, Ichigo. Show this guy you're strong, okay?" He shakes Ichigo a little bit. "Otherwise he's gonna think we're both wimps."

"I am not here to fight!" Ichigo protests. "I'm not even here to eat!"

Kenpachi frowns when he hears this and shakes the teenager a little bit more; like Ichigo is a broken toy and this act of semi-violence will fix him somehow. As it turns out, Zaraki has the bad habit of doing this with all of his complicated electronics too. That's why the twelfth division doesn't let him have any nice things anymore.

"O-oi! Stop that!" Ichigo protests, and starts to look more and more green the more he is shaken.

Zoro remains unimpressed.

"Wow, Zaraki," he sneers after a moment, "I think I know why you like the aho-chef's fruity-fruity choco cake so much now."

"You shut the hell up, that cake is fucking delicious," Zaraki snarls.

"It must be because your so-called greatest opponent looks like a piece of fruity-fruity choco cake himself."

"That's it!" Zaraki growls, and then promptly tosses Ichigo _at_ Zoro. "You better make this good, brat!"

"What the hell does this have to do with me?!" Ichigo shouts, and ends up landing on the floor head-first. He rolls a few feet, and then skids to an abrupt stop by the toe of Zoro's boot.

The former pirate looks down at the kid critically. Toes him with his boot a little.

"Stop that," Ichigo hisses, and struggles to his feet. "You're both crazy."

"Fight hard!" Zaraki encourages him.

Ichigo whirls around indignantly, and does it so quickly that Zoro has to jump backwards a bit to avoid being hit in the face with an elbow. "I TOLD YOU! I…"

The rest of his words are cut off because Zoro steps forward and promptly punches him in the face. Hard.

Ichigo drops like a sack of potatoes.

"Weak," Zoro confirms, and shakes his fist out a little bit.

"Oh c'mon!" Zaraki whines, "he wasn't ready!"

"He took the first swipe at me!" Zoro protests. "He was totally ready."

"Like hell! Do over! Do over!"

"With what? He's completely gone!"

Not quite though, because suddenly there is a groan from the ground. "Fuck…what the hell is wrong with you?" Ichigo growls dizzily, and somehow manages to stagger to his feet.

There's an accompanying surge of reiatsu as the kid struggles to find his balance, and Zoro blinks a little when he feels it. He admits to himself that maybe there's hope for this kid after all.

But then Ichigo staggers into the wall.

And then it's like slow motion from there—Kenpachi and Zoro both look on in horror as Ichigo reaches out for something to brace himself against until he can regain his bearings.

He ends up grabbing hold of one of the brand new light fixtures on the wall.

And promptly shatters it in his hand.

"Unngh," Ichigo groans.

"Fuck," Zoro and Kenpachi both say.

Later that night, as he is balancing plates on a serving tray while wearing a very fitting green-and-white checkered apron with _frills_, Zoro turns to Zaraki and growls, "I'm not fighting you again until you can beat that twerp. This is fucking embarrassing."

Zaraki—in yellow with a baby duck print pattern— just glares back. "Well if you hadn'ta _sucker punched him_ we wouldn't be in this mess!"

Ichigo—wearing bright pink with beaded ribbons— holds his own serving tray and screams, "Why am I even involved in this in the first place?!"

Sanji just sits on the side and eyes his three indentured servants critically. "Shut up and get back to work," he tells them. "The customers are waiting."

Rukia blissfully enjoys her pie.

**END**


End file.
